Now Dance, Desmond, Dance!
by Sunburned-Stickperson
Summary: He asked her what she wanted for her birthday. Now he was giving it to her.


He sighed, wrapping the beaded part of the outfit around his waist, wincing as he listened to them make noise. He swallowed as he attached it securely. The thin veils that were supposed to cover his legs made him feel less-then-comfortable, since she would be able to see not only all of his chest, but just about everything save his crotch, which was in loincloth-like covering as the see-through veils of red material ghosted over his legs. Numerous necklaces with more beads to make noise were draped around his neck, and bracelets and anklets were of the same fashion, all of them gold. He had to wonder why he agreed to give Lucy whatever she wanted for her birthday. He cursed Altair's numerous undiscovered talents, and briefly entertained the idea that he heard Altair apologize with a wince and a reference to Malik and Maria.

He hated him _especially _because the end of the world was over, and all of the assassins were waiting for his performance.

Still, as he felt the nerves twist in his belly, he knew that his dance would be flawless.

But that didn't excuse the skimpy as hell outfit he had to wear for her.

Still, at least the room would be dark save for his spotlight, and the music was calming and distracting enough. Nevertheless, that didn't stop him from trembling as he padded out onto the stage, and he could hear his feet sticking to the cold floor. The chilled air crawled up his skin, the cloth doing nothing to cover him and making him blush at the thought that he was standing almost completely naked in front of _the entire Order._ He took a deep breath as he let his back face his audience, and he was more nervous about this than when he was sent on his first mission on his own or when he was first chased by the guards. The music came on, and he was given a few beats to start moving before he could feel the heat of the spotlight on him. The music was slow, giving him time to get his trembling out of the way as he began to move with the rhythm. He still felt self-conscious in this stupid, slutty little outfit, the ever-tinkling charms alerting him to his every movement. He threw one cautious glance to make sure his dick was still tightly bound in the scant amount of clothes he was given when his dance allowed for it.

Slowly enough, he became relaxed into the music, snapping his hips and moving his arms in time as the music picked up, and he's swept along. As the music went on, he became glad for the whorish outfit, because the room was entirely too warm, and he remembered then why he practiced his routine in the nude in his room. He opened his mouth just slightly to draw in air as he continued to dance, and he wished they'd turn off the damn spotlight because it put out so much heat. His eyes were still closed, and he really didn't want anyone looking at him in this abomination of an outfit, so closing his eyes made it easier to pretend that no one was watching (that Shaun and his father were watching). Nevertheless, by the time he was done, he was sweaty and hot, panting quietly through his mouth—which he was careful not to let hang open much.

There was complete silence in the room, and he swallowed, cracking an eye open. Lucy looked like a woman caught watching porn, and he could feel his face heating up even more than before. He took it as a good sign that her gaze was completely hungry and utterly satisfied, yet, when he looked around, he was even more mortified, shifting in the scanty clothing and adjusting the crotch area as he swallowed again. He realized they had turned off the spotlight a while ago, and he felt as if he were under scrutiny, if the flush on Shaun's cheeks and the utterly astounded looks on others were anything to go by. He shifted uncomfortably again, feeling the women's eyes raking over his body like an item up for auction, and he played with the beads at his waist. Eventually, Lucy started clapping, smiling like a demon, and he felt himself relax a little bit.

"Can I go change now?"

And then Lucy's grin turned into something darker. "No, I think I like you in that outfit—"

"Please, Luce?" he whined, doing a sort of hip twitch and roll combination to adjust himself in the outfit again.

She just laughed. "No. Come over here and join me for the dinner first!"

He had absolutely no qualms about grabbing his crotch and adjusting the small cloth. "Are you sure?"

He picked the wedgie the outfit was starting to give him, and Lucy smiled warmly, patting the seat between Shaun and her. "I'm positive, Desmond! Please? It's part of my birthday wish."

He scowled, wish he could at least put on some jeans or something.

"Could we maybe have another dance later?"

He frowned, fidgeting in his seat and feeling a little like a harem girl as he sat on the pillow. Why Lucy chose to go with Japanese-style tables and Arabic food and dance was beyond him. He ate reluctantly, continually fidgeting with the outfit and feeling like every man and woman in the room was staring at him. He kept waiting for Shaun's remark about his lack of masculine pride, but it never came, and when they finally—_finally_—brought out the alcohol, Desmond had never been more excited to have some. He hoped it would take away his discomfort.

However, no one knew that when he had a few cups of whatever that drink was, Desmond was more like Ezio in his drunkenness rather than Altair, and he became quite showy—since, _damnit,_ he was sexy, and he knew it.

He was more than happy to give them all another dance, the alcohol giving him more than he needed in terms of a confidence boost, and he could lose himself in music that the DJ pulled up for him, snapping his hips, tinkling the beads, and making sure to give plenty of sultry glances to everyone who dared look at him. But when Shaun refused to turn around, he felt highly offended that someone didn't want to watch him—especially since he had been stuffed into this outfit against his will and forced to dance. So he made his way over, ignoring the mad giggling from the women as he knelt behind Shaun and ran his hands over his cheeks, laughing at the sputtering, flustered wreck he became. And when Shaun still sputtered that he absolutely refused to look at him, Desmond decided the best course of action would be to tilt that head back and kiss him full on the mouth, open and sloppy, mapping out as much of that man's mouth, throat, chin, ears, and neck as he possibly could before pulling back and smacking his lips.

"Now, _pay attention to me._"

He got back up, leaving Shaun looking thoroughly debauched as he gives them another dance, absolutely _loathing _the outfit because he felt like a whore, but he wasn't getting paid for his services, so he really shouldn't be in this outfit since he wasn't getting paid for being almost naked. Everyone was enjoying his show, at least, and he could feel Shaun's eyes on him the entire time—served the prick right for being such a prickly bitch and ignoring the handsome as fuck god right in front of him. And when the song was over, he was greeted with a much more rambunctious applause from the once-silent audience.

"Desssssmoooond," Rebecca gave him in a sing-song voice. "You should make out with Shaun again. I think he wants you to. And so does Lucy."

"I-I do n-not! Absolutely fucking no way in—"

And Desmond was only happy to oblige Rebecca and Lucy as he pulled the man from the table and plopped down in his lap, nestling himself firmly on top of the erection that he had been trying to hide as he leaned in and kissed him deeply, grinding down against him and pulling a gasp from him as he shoves his tongue in his mouth. It quickly goes downhill from there, the women gasping and encouraging him as he feels Shaun's hands on his thighs, his hips moving on their own and giving him something akin to a lap dance as he continued to drive Shaun toward release. It was totally the alcohol speaking, but Desmond thought it was damn hot the sounds that the British man was making, and the girls encouraging him was only making it worse.

Nevertheless, he was still more considerate then Ezio, and he pulled back, licking his lips again and deciding that Shaun would be fair enough payment for this ridiculous outfit. He got up, picked Shaun up, slung him over his shoulder, and winked at the crowd as he grabbed Lucy's hand. He couldn't leave the birthday girl out of it, and when Rebecca followed along, well, he was more than happy to give them those three a private show and end with what was probably the best sex in all his life.

But when he woke up the next morning, still in the jewelry and the skimpy little cloth off to the side, peeking out from under the strewn clothes, he couldn't help but frown. Remarkably, he felt more at ease under the blankets of the bed than when he was in that damn outfit. Still, as Shaun yawned and began to wake and Lucy stirred in his other arm as Rebecca clung to her, perhaps the outfit wasn't so bad after all.

Provided he had some alcohol.

* * *

**I don't even know, man. I don't even know. I haven't even heard back from the OP on the kinkmeme. Pfffft. Enjoy.**


End file.
